


Bucky Barnes and Clint Barton: Sniper bros!

by sirona



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Avengers shennanigans, Gen, sniper bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for glorfindel on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky Barnes and Clint Barton: Sniper bros!

“Get the fuck out,” Barton scoffs.

Bucky smirks. “What, you don’t think you can pull it off?” God, baiting this prickly asshole is _so much fun_.

Barton scowls. “Yeah, no, that’s not what concerns me.”

“Then put your money where your mouth is, ‘Hawkeye’.” Oh, yeah. Much more fun than those Russian fuckers with the amputated sense of humour who called themselves his ‘masters’. 

Barton’s frown is threatening to go nuclear on him. “I feel like you’re impugning my honor here. Anyway, do you even _have_ any money?”

Bucky shrugs. “Money isn’t everything, Barton. Tell you what, I’ll put up the story of that time Natalia—uh, I mean _Natasha_ had to go undercover in this ‘gentleman’s club’ that had female mud wrestling going on as ‘entertainment’.”

Barton’s grin is _unholy_. “Hot damn. I’ll take that over any amount of cash you can rustle up.”

“I thought you might,” Bucky smirks.

“You two do know you are live over the comms, don’t you?” Coulson’s dry voice says in Bucky’s ear. “I’d say cut the chatter, but I think the damage is already done. Now, if you are quite finished, can _one_ of you take the shot? That dragon isn’t going to put itself to sleep.”

“But it’s so _cute_ , sir,” Barton whines.

“You won’t think so once it starts growing, which Thor informs me should be happening any second now. So if you could…?”

Barton sighs and looks at Bucky. “All right. What are the stakes?”

“Whoever gets it the closest to its right armpit wins.”

Barton strokes the fuzz on his chin that he hadn’t had time to shave off this morning. “Fine. But don’t go crying to Steve when I hand you your ass on a platter.”

Bucky splutters derisively, which doesn’t seem to be putting Barton off any as he takes aim. They’re using sniper rifles this time, because the amount of sedative required won’t fit on the end of an arrow without destabilising the balance. Barton exhales slowly, and squeezes the trigger. The dart embeds itself right on the edge of the pectoral muscle, as close as he could get to the armpit when the dragon’s arm is lowered like this.

“Hah! Beat that,” Barton crows. Bucky sends him an evil look as he hunkers down next to him, sprawling over the top of the building Barton had chosen and resting his cheek along the cool surface of the gun. He waits until the dragon starts listing a little, arms flailing, then exhales and lets his finger twitch over the trigger. 

The damn thing put its arm down! “Fuck,” he growls. “That is so unfair.” 

The grin on Barton’s face is nothing short of evil. “Pay up, Barnes,” he shouts gleefully, jogging his elbow. “I gotta hear this.”

“It may interest both of you to know that Black Widow is closing in on your position,” Coulson says in their ears. Bucky can tell he’s going for neutral, but there’s too much cheerful anticipation in his voice for it to even come close. Barton stares at Bucky, face falling in a classic ‘uh-oh’ gape. Bucky doesn’t think his expression fares any better.

The sounds of a scuffle in their ears fade into Tony’s voice gasping, “Run for your lives, boys!” It’s followed by Steve’s disapproving, “They’d deserve anything they get.”

Bucky pouts. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Rogers! I’m pretty sure it’s in the best friends code. Is a month all it takes to get tired of me?”

“You won’t win yourself any favours by whining, Bucky. You should know better than to disrespect a member of our team,” Steve says primly.

“It’s not disrespect if it’s a true story,” Bucky insists, but he’s already fast on Barton’s heels, racing over the roof and following him over the gap to the next building over. 

“This way,” Barton murmurs when Bucky gets close enough to not have to lip-read over the rising wind. “I know a shortcut.”

Bucky follows without question, so intent on getting away from Natasha’s wrath that he runs smack into Barton’s back when the latter comes to a sudden stop halfway down the staircase.

“Go back,” he calls urgently, but before Bucky can comply there’s the silken sound of a knife being withdrawn from its sheath.

“Hello, boys,” Natasha purrs. “What’s this about swapping wartime stories? Do I need to start telling the team about all the times you got your ass in a pinch, Clint? _Or_ all those times I had to drag _your_ ass out of trouble, James?”

“I’d be up for that,” Steve’s distressingly enthusiastic voice comes in all their ears, swiftly followed by Coulson’s “I concur. The beers are on me.”

Barton and Bucky share a panicked look and whimper as one man. Oh, _crap._


End file.
